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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239885">Take Me Out (One More Time)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alejacdlm/pseuds/alejacdlm'>alejacdlm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, M/M, Semi-Canon Compliant, Sexual Content, because that glee club was all about in-dating, drunk college kids - Freeform, romantic friendships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:27:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alejacdlm/pseuds/alejacdlm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn Fabray had experienced her first orgasm, courtesy of Santana Lopez, the week before Thanksgiving in her freshman year of high school. This was something she was mostly able to ignore until the summer before her sophomore year of college, though not for want of trying.</p><p>(Tags will be updated with story)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam Crawford/Kurt Hummel, Artie Abrams &amp; Quinn Fabray, Dani/Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabray &amp; Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray/Brittany S. Pierce, Quinn Fabray/Dani, Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The glee club spends the summer after the season 5 graduation in NYC together. Rather Quinn-centric because she got nearly zero exploration after season 3. She was the only original to leave the main cast for season 4, and even though she had a fabulous story line I always wonder what the rest of the club felt like. And she got a really complex characterization set-up before that, so it's kind of easy and fun to write her.</p><p>This will also be ignoring everything after that graduation, and Brittana going to Lesbos - sorry, but I don't believe they have the money to do that and afford New York rent. There's also some other canon stuff from season 5 that is just not happening here.</p><p>It's also a hot minute since I wrote prose so apologies if it's not awesome.</p><p>This first chapter turned into a lot more 'glee club realizes Quinn still struggles walking' than I expected, but it was something criminally under-addressed, and I have long-term back and mobility problems from a simple bicycle accident, so I'm not sorry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quinn Fabray had experienced her first orgasm, courtesy of Santana Lopez, the week before Thanksgiving in her freshman year of high school. This was something she was mostly able to ignore until the summer before her sophomore year of college, though not for want of trying.</p>
<p>"But Quinn, even your internship is in New York! You don't need to commute if you stay with your friends in Brooklyn-" Rachel continued her now-daily exercise of trying to convince me to spend my summer living with her and however many of the glee club kids would be hosted at her apartment until they all moved into their own places for college. I didn't point out that since my internship was in Tribeca, I would still need to commute. "-and it will be just like one big long sleepover!" I waited five seconds, and when she didn't speak again, I sighed. It had been two weeks of this while I packed up my dorm room between finals, storage boxes because even though I hadn't told Rachel (or anyone) I didn't have an off-campus apartment in New Haven yet and was expecting to put most of my belongings into a unit while I bunked with a classmate who I didn't really like but who was on the same internship.</p>
<p>I didn't really want to live in an overpacked apartment with everyone I still spoke to from high school in it 24/7, but it would honestly be more fun. And Santana's brutal timekeeping would make sure I was at work on time - the classmate is on level pegging with Santana when it comes to partying, but is a lot further down when it comes to alarm setting. Even if it was just a theatre workshop that was basically being run for Ivy League theatre programs. Apparently the Columbia kids are bitchy about studying in the city.</p>
<p>"Rachel, if I say yes now do I get a bed to myself?" I bargained after realizing I had left my friend waiting for too long. The sudden inhale told me 'no' was the answer before she even rambled her way around the word.</p>
<p>Four days later I was being greeted by a small army of show choir kids at Grand Central, two suitcases with me. It was more of an inconvenience to all get on the subway together, nice as the gesture was, and I worried that maybe I wouldn't get a moment away from everyone. We hadn't been apart for that long, really. I saw most of them three months ago on Valentine's Day.</p>
<p>Valentine's Day. I hadn't failed to notice that, of all the friends who had ventured out to meet me, Santana - the one who had given me probably the best sex of my life, not that she had much competition, three months ago - was not one of them. Hadn't I just been thinking how dumb it was for them all to come out when it was really a one person job? That could have been Santana's job, though, it's she who I had been closest with the longest. And it was her apartment more than it was Sam's or Tina's or Artie's. I talked myself in and out of reasons why Santana should or should not have gone all the way to Manhattan for the entire journey to Bushwick.</p>
<p>As most of the club elected to walk the six stories up a cement staircase, and Kurt even grabbed my suitcases to take with him, I waved up at them and leaned against the wall by the elevator with Artie. Our friends' footfall echoing above made the 10 seconds it took for Artie to speak feel much longer. "How's your back?" he asked, not looking at me.</p>
<p>"Awful, to be honest" I reply, averting my gaze before we can make eye contact. I had gone through so many low points in high school, and he had been one of my few avenues of support during the one that threatened to tip me over the edge, but I rarely checked in with him. "I'm sorry we don't talk more." The elevator arrived and I let Artie in first before pressing the button to the loft floor.</p>
<p>"It's okay," he said all too jovially for this conversation, "you didn't talk to anyone at McKinley, and you'd dated Sam, so no skin off my bones." While Artie wasn't Santana, he did always say what he meant and meant what he said, so his warm tone and astute reaction I took at face value. He wasn't offended, but he did think I should have kept in touch in general. But I felt something I needed to tell someone here in New York, I should tell him.</p>
<p>"I have a walking stick. Official ADA and everything. The city's busy and pedestrian. I still take physical therapy every week but my back can seize up or suddenly go numb without warning, and I at least need something to take the weight while I recover. Or don't. While I call someone to come and help me. Compression shock, I'll have it forever and I've tried to hide it." The doors opened just as Artie reached for my hand. I stepped out first and waited for him to follow.</p>
<p>Artie nodded and smiled at me, looking wiser than I'd seen him before. We didn't do deep. "Yeah, you will. And it sucks. But if you're admitting it for the first time now, you won't be stuck with all the negative emotions for much longer." He started wheeling himself towards the loft's giant door before he suddenly spun in place to look me dead in the eye, speaking with determination "And get a wheelchair, Quinn, you can't be walking in the city if you could fall over at any moment." His tone softened at the fear in my eyes, "You said it yourself, it's busy, who knows when we could save you and who knows what strangers would do." I nodded and patted him on the shoulder as I walked past, sliding open the door myself.</p>
<p>A cheer attacked us from the other side. Santana, Blaine, and Brittany - the three who hadn't gone into the city - then attacked me in a group hug. The whole place had been tidied and decorated in McKinley colors. "Hey hey hey," Santana began when they pulled back and the glee club started to disperse from the doorway to let us in, "this isn't all for you, but if you're finally going to acknowledge our existence then you deserve an extra special welcome." She winked at me, and since she was the last person to show me something more than friendly affection, I, like a fool, blushed. So she smirked at me.</p>
<p>Ever our mediator, Brittany burst between the tension to dazzle me, pulling me into another hug. "You'll be sharing a bed with us, Quinn. Rachel said you could share with her and Tina but Santana said she didn't want you to catch loser now that you're already nerding it up, so you can sleep in her room and our awesome will rub off on you!" Another smirk from Santana, who pulled back her damn curtain like a car sales showgirl. It looked tidier than any bed of Santana's I'd seen before in my life and, from between Brittany's arms, I'm certain my expression told her that.</p>
<p>"Don't look ungrateful, Q, we missed out on dragging your ass back from the city to spend all morning cleaning this shit up to your insane standards. I even got new sheets and everything." Though there was bite, I knew she was trying to make a good impression, and I smiled as I hugged Brittany a bit tighter, hoping Santana realized it was for her. My suitcases were already on that freshly-made bed, but they weren't unzipped, so Santana had shown some restraint, too.</p>
<p>Several hours and a shower later, I was sat in a pajama set of cotton shorts and camisole on Santana and Brittany's bed. I hadn't paid much attention to where everyone else had been zoned off, but they must have been more than three to a bed or some people on the floor. It had almost felt selfish, until Santana had thrown a new maternity pillow at me while I was texting with my disability support advisor. As soon as I recognized what the item was, and maybe because I'd been thinking about my back pain, I took it for a kind gesture and settled it behind my hips and leaned back. Watching me, Santana smiled wide and began to crawl up next to me in a decidedly unsexy fashion.</p>
<p>"I really thought you'd assume I was making a joke about you getting pregnant, Q, but I'm glad you suddenly think better of me." She whispered, head resting on the edge of the pillow by my side. I scratched at her hair as I watched typing bubbles on my phone screen.</p>
<p>"Because I know you're really sweet, San, you may be a bitch to be funny but you care about all of us too much to make me feel bad for no reason. Especially when you didn't rummage through all of my stuff before I got here." She laughed as my phone pinged and I sat up, dislodging her.</p>
<p>"Hey, what's so important I lose out on cuddle time with my second favorite cheerleader?" She whined as she made no attempt to move. I looked down to her little pout, nervous to tell her, and boop her nose as I pass over my phone so she can read it herself. "Okay, I'm not really understanding this?" She asks hesitantly.</p>
<p>I sigh, run my hands through my growing hair - note to self, get a hair cut - and bite my lip as I make eye contact. "Well, you know I get ADA support?" She nods absently and I look away, play with the phone she's passed back, "My support advisor is helping make accommodations because living more independently, especially in a city like New York, is a difficult adjustment. It was something Artie said in the elevator earlier that made me think about just how big everything is here. They're going to get me some wheelchair just to make getting around easier. I'm always going to have weakness sometimes, and I don't want to collapse in the middle of the city alone." I'd almost forgotten I was talking to Santana before her hand was stroking my knee.</p>
<p>"If I'm free I'll always go out with you, if you want, so you can walk, you know?" Vulnerable Santana wasn't all that new to me, but it felt like a revelation again every time I saw it. I lay back and started playing with her hair again in silent gratitude, just as Brittany returned from her own shower and, in nothing but a towel, joined us in the love fest. Laying with a back support and two of my best friends cuddling was a great start to my summer, as unprepared in being an adult as I felt.</p>
<p>We cuddled up, and almost dozed off, together until the last of whoever wanted to clean up in the bathroom had. One bathroom between all of us was not going to be an ideal living situation unless we were willing to give up modesty, and I seriously wondered if the building's boiler could take all of us wanting to shower every day. I had to remind myself that most of these people would be moving out in a matter of days or weeks, either to their own apartments or college dorms when they freed up. I'd only been there an afternoon and was already sad at the prospect of missing them. The glee club officially turned me into a sap. Rachel had improved as a person thanks to her time with us, too, and had offered to be the last one in the bathroom, presumably suffering through a freezing shower based on how weak her voice was when she appeared.</p>
<p>"It's welcome party time, people!" She screamed into the apartment. I was not the only new arrival that day, but I still didn't want to walk the five paces to this party. The maternity pillow was comfy, so sue me. I must have tensed at the announcement, or my friends are mind readers, because it wasn't a second before Santana and Brittany's eyes met from where their heads were on opposite sides of me, looking devious. Brittany suddenly lifted me bridal-style while Santana grabbed my falling phone and the pillow, then pulled back the curtain once more. As our friends were gathering in the designated living room area, Brittany continued to carry me, to their stares. Santana helpfully made Sam move off the couch and set the pillow down before Brittany gentled lowered me. I bat her arms away as quickly as I was settled. Most of the gang, seeing my discomfort, looked away and continued pouring drinks and staring at phones - Santana quickly returned mine to my lap - but such a social more was lost on Rachel when her interest was piqued. She looked around everyone as if to say 'did you all not just see that', before asking the room loudly "So, what, Quinn can't walk all of a sudden?" And trying to giggle, hiding her need to know with sarcasm.</p>
<p>Sarcasm. I knew it well. But, like a scene in a horror movie, ten sets of eyes turned to Rachel in unison and glared. "What?" She squeaked, "Like it's normal to be carried out of-"</p>
<p>"Rachel," I interrupted, stealing back the room's focus to save the girl before she dug herself in. As soon as I had it, my commanding tone became light, "I haven't been able to walk for over a year. Get with the times." Truthful with enough humor to put everyone at ease. I'm a theatre major, I know how to use my words. I know how to perform. Brittany had placed herself on the couch next to me, and Santana was sat on its arm at my other side. My backup were here, and they each picked a spot of skin to stroke as I settled back into the pillow. God, was I grateful for Santana. Not so subtly, Artie wheeled into Rachel's foot as he passed her to join our side of the pseudo-circle, settling in the space next to Santana.</p>
<p>Everyone had laughed except Rachel, who sort of chuckled, then swallowed, "I'm so sorry, Quinn." I nodded at her. Most of my thanks were silent. I'd never been taught to be grateful for anything but God, and was never used to expressing thanks to people verbally. I always tried to show them, though.</p>
<p>"Bitch please, we're over it, let's get our drank on!" Santana cheered from my side, passing along beers from the six pack in Artie's lap. "A toast to our weird incestuous reunion, you guys are really chosen family. I mean, you obviously all chose me and I just allow myself to be dragged along, but I love you deep down below my breast implants." The music pumped.</p>
<p>I was almost exactly one and half bottles into the night, based on the beer level against the label, when a much more intoxicated Kurt suddenly stood and straightened (or ruffled, he just did something) his outfit. "Ladies and gentlemen, or whatever, it has been too long since we all played a drinking game together - but I am not advocating for spin the bottle. We're all already sleeping on each other as it is." How he's so eloquent this drunk is a testament to his performance abilities, too. Rachel Berry eat your heart out. "And we do all need life updates. So I propose truth or drink. I think we all know the rules." And he proceeded to flounce back to his spot on the floor, perfectly coifed hair and matching scarf bobbing as he simply lowered into a sitting position with ease. Oh for the lower back durability that motion required.</p>
<p>The following whoops, and the idea is well-received. Noah grins slyly, still on his first beer. Not one to be left out, he was spending his summer break in New York, too, though his excuse was that he'd already made it through every sex-worthy woman in Lima. Well, half of us are here.</p>
<p>"Alright losers, first time you had sex." He asked the group, trying to make contact with everyone before taking a sip. "It's the first question, you can't chicken out." He added as he finished.</p>
<p>A hand brushed my arm as it was raised next to me, a tipsy Santana heading to ask a question, "Define sex? I assume some kind of mutual masturbation counts?" Confused eyes from around the room after the first part suddenly looked down in realization when the tag came.</p>
<p>"I second that." Kurt mumbled, barely raising from the floor to bob his agreement.</p>
<p>"What? No man," Puck began, swirling his bottle in the air, "I didn't know you needed an education, Satan, but masturbation isn't sex. But if you chicks are-" Rachel punched him from the side. "Hey!" but he shut up.</p>
<p>"Not just masturbation, Puck. Getting someone else off while they pleasure you. You know, sex without sticking your dick in some poor girl's vagina." Santana bit back. Puck rightfully looked a bit sheepish.</p>
<p>"Are you going to call me homophobic if I say it doesn't count?" He asks, sounding and looking for all intents and purposes like a dwarf just sat on his head. But at least he was learning how to play. A chorus of 'yes' echoed, and I barely recognized I was one of the voices - joining Santana, Brittany, Kurt, Blaine, and Kurt's new obviously gay friends I had yet to be properly introduced to - in it. I got a side eye from Santana not unlike the hesitant optimism from the Valentine's Day reception in response, but that was quickly dropped as Noah cleared his throat. "So, first orgasm administered by another person. Babymama?" And all eyes returned to me.</p>
<p>And I quickly realized why I got the look from Santana. If I were to tell the truth, then, by the newly-established laws of this game, I'd had sex almost a year before Noah. The state of public education in Ohio meant that I was never exposed to the sequential horrors of menstruation until I was experiencing them, and though I'd first got my period, thankfully, in the bath when I was 12, I first got period <em>pains</em> while having a meal at Santana's house over the Thanksgiving break in freshman year. I lost my appetite and was worried about it, not knowing what was happening, so excused myself to Santana's room. Her mom came to check on me, kinder than I'd ever seen her in our short friendship. When I described the pain, she explained to me what my body was doing and left to get a warm cushion, apparently sending Santana up to comfort me while she waited for it to be heated. It was after the cushion had cooled that Santana, wise in all these ways I wasn't, offered to show me how she relieved the pain. And that's how Santana, fumbling over my skirt, gave me my first orgasm. To this day I can't truly recall why I reciprocated, except that she'd mentioned after I came that she was going to do it to herself and my brain, mush at the time, decided to push her hands back and fumble under her skirt instead. While I'm sure Valentine's Day is a testament to how much I'd improved since 15, I was going to have to reveal my first time was actually with a girl. Because Noah knew he had my virginity, so anything before that, well, the recent discussion would let them work it out.</p>
<p>"Um. The week before Thanksgiving, freshman year of high school." I mutter, tomato-red cheeks hidden as I basically address the lip of my bottle. But the stillness of the room means they all caught it. I wait for any kind of acknowledgement I might want to hide from, and when nothing is said for a few seconds, I pass the attention to my left, but skipping over Brittany. We don't talk about Brittany's first time. "Mercedes?"</p>
<p>I spoke just as Noah found his voice, "Damn, I gotta stop claiming you then." Well, duh, he shouldn't have been in the first place.</p>
<p>Coming back to the room, Mercedes now, as much as she can, blushes. "I still haven't." She says, and the silence of calculating brains turns into mixed calls for Mercedes to get some already or to keep holding back. And the baton works its way around the room.</p>
<p>And since I passed it left, it's a while before it gets to Santana. The sexually liberated and completely unashamed Santana, who tries to hide her face in her drink, too, running her foot along the wheel of Artie's chair before he bats it away in annoyance. People messing with your chair, I know the feeling. She clears her throat. "Thanksgiving break freshman year." She chokes out, then goes to the kitchen area to grab another drink despite her bottle being nearly full. Oh. <em>Oh.</em> The eyes are on me as soon as I realize, and I use my fantastic upper body strength to, hands on the freshly vacated couch arm and Brittany's leg, propel myself up without straining my lower back after being nestled deep in the couch. Still not feeling strong today, I lean more heavily on the furniture (and some shoulders) than any of these people have seen in a long time as I try to make my escape, until Artie feels sorry for me and rolls up behind, sitting me on his lap as he follows Santana.</p>
<p>"Lame attempt at running away," I try to joke, speaking over Artie as he softly chastises,</p>
<p>"You should really get that chair, Quinn," helping me stand and lean on the bar.</p>
<p>I turn to look back at him as he takes another case of beer and heads back to the group, "Yeah, I've asked Yale's disability support. I know, Art." His smile is almost as warm as Britt's hug earlier. I sense he also doesn't want to be the only one, in this big city, getting all the attention when we take up more space than people in this city normally do. Not that I want much attention right now.</p>
<p>"If this is where you're going to hide until they forget, it could be a while." Santana says as she passes me her half-finished beer.</p>
<p>"Do we really not have any other alcohol?" I ask. She smirks.</p>
<p>"I have a brilliant idea." She grins as she comes around the bar to join me. Unexpectedly, she hoists me to sit on it. "Don't move." She instructs, though she's pretty much ensured I can't unless someone comes, and I think they're respecting the privacy I nearly hurt myself trying to get. I'm almost done with the bottle when Santana returns, arms cradling at least one bottle of tequila, a shaker, and a bottle of clear liquid with its label hidden. "Cocktails, bitch, if they're going to wonder all night we can at least be too fucked to care." I help her unload her haul onto the bar and twist to sit on it, crossing my legs and squeezing her hand briefly. One day I'll be able to say thank you more than once.</p>
<p>We've mixed enough drinks for each of the girls and gays, and Santana takes out a baking tray to act as server, announcing the drinks during yet another round of truth or drink - noting that they're too good for the game and stick to beer if you're a coward - before coming back over and leaning on the bar in front of me. One prod to my thigh and my eyes cast down to meet hers, her eyebrows raised in a quick question. I nod and stretch my arms out, and she helps me down, catching me by the waist. It's a position so familiar, usually felt when landing the perfect cheer move. I resented Santana for a few weeks after she got the cheerleading scholarship. Sure, I didn't want it, and I'd already got into Yale, but I know there's some things that were so integral to my fragile high school identity that I'll never be physically able to do again. I couldn't get a cheerleading scholarship. It hurts to dance, half the time, but I still push through it for appearances. There's an accessible dance class at Yale, though, that I've been too scared to sign up for each semester; it's a performance elective that also gets you an extra credit for some bullshit community outreach thing that helps the rich morons graduate, but my advisor, Janette, thinks I should do it anyway. I haven't wanted to dance too taxingly since the car crash, to pretend like I still could if I wanted. Taking that class, in a wheelchair, would be a level of acceptance that I can't. Janette thinks - or reports from my tutors tell her - I've been holding back in my acting performances, too, and I'll be much more open when I work through, I guess, the stages of grief. Fitness is something I worked so hard for, based my identity on. Gone, like nothing. I rationalize it as God wanting me to accept myself, so I'll work through that first. And maybe a summer spent more often than not in a wheelchair will make the class seem more approachable.</p>
<p>We walk back to the couch with Santana's arm around me much like it was when I stood up on stage during prom, half my weight leaning right into her. I sit on the back of the couch when we reach it - though everyone has continued whatever they were saying, it's definitely slowed down with eyes on us, so best to sit down quickly - and rotate on my ass before sliding into my waiting pillow. Santana abandons her perch to sit half on both my and Brittany's laps, moving two cocktails to the armrest she'd been sitting on before.</p>
<p>"Geez, what made you so heavy," I joke as she wriggles to get comfy.</p>
<p>"Bitch," she flicks at my hair playfully, "I basically just carried you here, don't call me heavy. Can your legs even feel my weight anyway," though it's in her Snix tone, the last jab is hesitant. Our normal evolved over senior year and my freshman year of college and now involves what used to be barbs as, instead, meaningless insults, and while it's an odd friendship, I want our normal to not be censored now we're seeing each other in person - and maybe a different light. We're both more vulnerable than I remember.</p>
<p>"Please, a dead man could feel that elephant taking residence up your skirt," I swat at the obnoxiously high hemline - who gets dressed up for drinks in their own house? - and Santana wraps one arm around me, beaming. Brittany squeals, and gives us one arm each. I imagine we look like a tickle monster to our friends, who seem to have been keeping an ear on our conversation while continuing their own.</p>
<p>"If you guys are going to have a threesome tonight, can I at least watch?" Noah asks, and I don't have anything to throw at him that I'm willing to sacrifice, but Santana lobbies a slipper over there for me. She doesn't even wear slippers. "You don't even wear slippers!" Noah calls as he ducks. Bless the Latina in her for getting a pair just to hit people with. Her smirk is saying as much to him, and he glares back before countering, "So straight to mama feisty over there for the next question? Most recent orgasm given by another person?"</p>
<p>Santana leans backwards a little bit to kiss Brittany before saying the girl's name, and as the question goes around, Brittany gives Santana's name in response, too. My mouth turns heavy with anticipation of the eventual return to me, too heavy to drink, and I just squeeze Santana's hand where it rests next to me.</p>
<p>"Quinn?" Noah looks over lasciviously while half the room is still howling with laughter at whatever Artie's response was - I was too nervously sweating to listen to many of the responses, and it seems he just finished and everyone certainly isn't done finding it funny. But Noah is a bit of a pervert, wanting to hear mine desperately and soon.</p>
<p>It takes a little longer for everyone else to catch up, and I try to go for a swig of beer until Rachel leans and swipes it from my hand. What's her game? But I sigh - the little diva claps her hands so I guess she really wants to know. "Santana". Is all I offer before forcing my beer from Rachel and nearly downing it. Santana looks surprised. Well, everyone looks surprised but I was expecting that. From the woman herself? Not really.</p>
<p>"Wait, you didn't sleep with that preppy douchebag you were dating? And here I thought you'd turn into some sex monster after we did it." Santana adds a stage wink after her antagonizing question, but at least she confirmed it happened for me rather swiftly. I try to bury my face behind her, simultaneously embarrassed and grateful that she's here for me as some human shield.</p>
<p>Kurt clears his throat nervously from the side, "Let's just drink!" he manages to get out between hiccups, saving me from the game he started before. Blaine pats his shoulder while the gay friends look over, trying to decode me, before quickly retracting their heads like turtles. I can only assume Santana gave them a prize glare from behind me.</p>
<p>Everyone has been dribbling back to bed over the last half hour, but I'm effectively trapped in place. While Kurt and Blaine, and the boys I've now been introduced to as Adam and Elliott, seem tired, they're all hanging on until the very end, when Artie, awkwardly glancing between the gay huddle on the ottoman and the three former cheerleaders sprawled on the couch, finally bids us goodnight. I'm just about asking when we can get to bed when the boys relocate to the coffee table in front of our couch.</p>
<p>"Quinn," Kurt and Blaine begin at the same time, and debate for too long on who will speak until Adam, the efficient Brit in all this, just speaks over them in his hushed tone. It's still so easy to pick out thanks to the accent.</p>
<p>"Quinn? I thought you were gay until Kurt said you're not, but he's been tense all night wanting to ask you. So have the other two, and me, if I'm honest." Adam leans forward, so forward, but my Santana-shaped barrier springs into action, pointing a rather drunken finger into his face.</p>
<p>"First, she's a lady, she's a lesbian. Second, shut up, Mary Poppins, let her work that shit out for herself." I curse my pale complexion for how red I turn. Brittany squeezes my shoulder as she reins Santana in, preventing her from teetering into the boys' laps instead of ours. She then decides to just heave Santana up, and carries her to bed before returning.</p>
<p>"So this was nice, but Santana wants to get her cuddles on with her two favorite ladies - sorry, that's not you, Kurt - so we need to do this some other time." Brittany says, too cheerily, in the vague direction of the boys as she just leans down and picks me up, too. "Oh, wait, can one of you bring the pillow?" She makes eye contact with Blaine, who knows an order from Britt when he hears one, following us in. Somehow, Santana's sinful dress is in a pile on the floor and she's in an oversized t-shirt, already asleep. Brittany and I each take a side of her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is out so quick because it's kind of a half-filler chapter?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quinn Fabray had her first kiss at the Homecoming game freshman year. Not the party after, but at the game itself. Brittany Pierce, the kindest of the cheerleaders, had promised on the walk out to the field that she would give out kisses for every touchdown, and Quinn and Santana each got one, never mind that the touchdowns were scored by the other team. This memory was a little harder to forget: it's the entire reason the three of them became a unit.</p><p>I wake being spooned by primarily Santana, but also Brittany's long limbs stretched out behind us both. It doesn't take much effort to pencil roll away, and I stand comfortably. So today is a good day right now. But I don't hesitate to take some of the muscle relaxant gel left handily on the bedside table, beside an assortment of hair ties, Santana's glasses, and a book that I guess also belongs to her, and apply it to my lower back. It's then I remember the overpopulation of the apartment, when someone laughs and another curses from beyond the curtain. Trying not to wake Brittany and Santana, I walk out to find my risen friends and, hopefully, breakfast. Today, walking is easy, and I feel light, so I almost glide through the apartment to the breakfast bar where Rachel is trying to eat some mangled bagel, Kurt sipping at a head-sized mug of something. Coffee, from the smell, burnt. I get different odd looks from them both.</p><p>"Morning, Quinn." Kurt greets cheerily, anyway, holding out his mug to me as I pass him easily to rummage around in their cupboards. Finding no suitable ready-to-eat breakfast foods - there's only a bag of cheetos by the bowls - I take the offer and toe open the fridge to see if there's maybe something I could cook, grimacing at the first sip before handing it back and bending down to grab the bacon hidden at the bottom. To keep it from spoiling Rachel's food, I presume. The sudden cup-meeting-bar and shuffle behind me, plus Rachel's gasp, alerts me to their concern. At bending down? I react when I rise, elegantly if I do say so myself, and raise an eyebrow at them both. Kurt's hands are still outstretched as if to catch, and I glare them back to his sides, hanging limply as the man awaits further instruction.</p><p>"I know my limits, guys, have a little faith," I try to sound unaffected and light, though I honestly don't know whether I'm insulted or comforted, then add "I presume you have a frying pan and some virgin olive oil somewhere?", holding up the bacon and eggs I'd retrieved. To show my strength, I tap the fridge door closed by my heel with the just the right strength, not even looking behind myself at it. Rachel snickers, Kurt bats her arm then helps me cook breakfast. Fried food seems to be at least Mike's hangover cure, as he appears out of nowhere to join us.</p><p>Once our unusual foursome is seated with plates, Kurt decides to break the relatively peaceful silence (there are more sirens outside than I'd hoped), with a "Can we address the elephant in the room?" Rachel nods solemnly, but thankfully Mike, like myself, looked confused - was the silence awkward and we'd missed the hint? Since nobody replied, Kurt continued: "Quinn." <em>Me?</em> My face screams. "Your sexuality?" It's not lost on me that he's stolen a rather ironic and iconic line from Santana's closet days, but instead of point this out I blush (again!) and look down. "Or the fact you can evidently only stand up half the time and never told us!" With that outburst, I meet his eyes. He's not digging for details so much as hurt that I haven't shared the important things with my friends, and I reach across the table to grab his hand.</p><p>"I'm sorry," I start, getting an odd look from Rachel as if I hadn't made it a habit to apologize, "I've not been trying to hide things," I start to explain, not really sure how I will, "well, except from myself. I've been trying to pretend everything's fine." If there's a better way to finish, or more to offer, I know I'd start sounding like an after school special on friendship or something, so I just squeeze his hand and get back to eating. So do the boys. Rachel, however, is Rachel, after all.</p><p>"Are we going to talk about it now?" She pushes, almost done with the vegan bagel softly gripped above her plate. The three of us stop and look, but don't respond. "You know, Quinn, are you gay?" She elaborates in a whisper. Reservedness suits her.</p><p>"While I'm interested in <em>that</em> answer," Santana appears behind us, loudly interrupting, "I'm more interested in some of this homecooked breakfast. Why did we never do this before?" She asks, taking a mouthful from between my and Kurt's plates.</p><p>Kurt rolls his eyes, "Because none of us bother to cook most of the time? Be grateful your ex decided she wanted something more filling than your expired Greek yogurt." He snarks back, bobbing his head towards me at the word 'ex' as if we wouldn't pick up on the joke.</p><p>Santana snorts, "Please, Quinn's not my ex, she's made out with Britt more," and wanders off to the kitchen area to see what food she can gather for herself. We had fried up enough bacon for everyone - the entire two packets I'd found - but not so many eggs. It's probably still warm, just like my cheeks when the clatter of silverware tells me even Kurt can't keep up with Santana's wit. The woman in question returns, dragging a poof over to the small table (if anyone else decides to rise we'll have to relocate or at least expand breakfast to the living area) between 'zones'. "What, like anyone's surprised at Quinn's outstanding homosexuality." She adds when she notices only Mike actually eating. I swat at her, which only brings out her twisted humor more, "wanna hear about our threesome?" She chuckles out.</p><p>Before Rachel's eyes can pop out of her head I intervene, "Now that's where she is messing with you," adding an exaggerated shin tap for show.</p><p>As if by magic, Brittany appears, sitting on Santana's lap and eating her food. She shrugs, "I dunno, Quinnie, we totally did some stuff together." And I'm conflicted whether to face the conversation ready to force itself from Kurt and Rachel's lips, or to take my half empty plate to the kitchen to escape. But we really did a good job with the frying.</p><p>"Yeah, but nothing like they were picturing," I start, matter-of-fact, and while Rachel is still bugging out, Brittany just nods and hums and continues eating, Kurt is trying to keep his listening face on, and Mike is genuinely just listening, it's Santana's response that startles me. She looks genuinely surprised, presumably at the mere fact I've openly broached the topic, and relocates her left hand from Brittany's waist to my knee as I decide to tackle it, "but yeah," I address the table at large, "I guess we had some fun." To indicate this is far as that's going to go right now, I remove Santana's hand and return to my own food.</p><p>Then Mike coughs, "Do you always know when you're going to struggle walking?" His eyes pierce me, his caring voice entrapping me. I shrug. <em>Not really.</em> I think, and while the shrug probably indicates that, it feels like he's read my mind when he nods and adds, "We could do some physio, I'm sure I can find a good gym here," in an elated tone. He doesn't expect a response, clearing the last of his eggs in one mouthful then removing his dishes to the kitchen. I nod at his back in thanks, too.</p><p>"Speaking of," Santana starts up as she's trying to reclaim at least some bacon from Brittany - their relationship is in a confusing unlabeled more-than-friends situation again - "your phone went off with that advisor lady," and she throws my phone at me for good measure. I drop my silverware and catch it, checking the email. I knew it wouldn't be that easy: I hoped that, being brave enough to admit I could probably do with the aid of a chair, I would be able to sit back and watch it appear without having to think (and accept) too much. No; the ADA has, in Janette's words, approved funds for it, but I still have to go and test, choose, and buy one from an approved store. Even if I didn't, I expect Janette would be making me, anyway, to confront the situation. I growl. "Hey, what?" Santana soothes, directing Brittany to stroke my forearms since her hands are otherwise occupied. I knew the bacon was good. And I'll explain later, a message that only requires a certain type of head turn to pass along to my two friends. Brittany gives my arm a pat in confirmation then gets back to stealing Santana's bacon.</p><p>I roll my eyes at her trying to catch the end of some hanging from Santana's fork in her mouth. "Mike, could you bring Brittany some bacon of her own?" He cheers out a confirmation and also brings a bowl of washed fruit for the table.</p><p>"You guys really need to go grocery shopping." Mike notes, taking his seat with a bite from an apple that's definitely lost its crunch. It's only minutes before we're all done with breakfast and pile the dishes (in front of Kurt) but stay at the table to chat. It's nearly 9 a.m. and the various sounds of sleep are replaced by at least one other body fighting off wakefulness. Rachel has just finished telling us all about her plans to get a photo in front of every Broadway theatre this summer when Sam, wrapped in a bed sheet, appears. "Dude," Mike eyes him up, "did you steal the sheets?"</p><p>Everyone else is at least awake by midday, Artie and Puck shortly following Sam since he'd left them uncovered, when Santana prods me with a pointed index finger. We're curled up with our friends watching dumb TV and trying to pretend Kurt's burnt coffee tastes good, since he made a full pot. "I'm going grocery shopping today, want to come with?" She asks.</p><p>I bite my lip and nod, "Can we stop by another store on the way?" I ask. She smiles, nods, and buries herself further into Brittany. It sometimes surprises how she's become so soft, but it shouldn't, given how timid she became as soon as she recognized my interest in her was genuine rather than just playful or lustful.</p><p>Having left Brittany to the cartoons with our other slightly blitzed friends, Santana and I prepare for the world in her room. Though I'm feeling strong today, I still grab my stick, keeping it close to my side as if it will blend with my body. I can see Santana notice, but she doesn't respond. When we leave the apartment, though, she hesitates before heading for the stairs, letting me lead; I take one look down at them and realize that's just something I can't do. Each step is deep, the staircase itself is quite steep, and it's wide enough I could only reach one handrail. I sigh deeply - solemnly, not frustrated anymore - and turn back to the elevator, where Santana had been waiting and watching, letting her hit the call button.</p><p>On the way down, I bring up the trip I want to make, "That message from my advisor," I look at the flyers on the wall, "said that support services has given me the money for a wheelchair, but we need to go get one. I don't know where you get your groceries, but near Williamsburg there's a store." I rush out. The doors open at ground level, and Santana loops her arm with mine.</p><p>"Cool, wheelchair first?" She asks as we leave the barely air-conditioned building for the still much hotter packed Brooklyn streets. At least there's a subway entrance at the end of this block. As we descend its steps, Santana swapping sides wordlessly so she can still support me without going against the flow of people, she chuckles out "Hey, we can use it to push the groceries back!" And I laugh wholeheartedly.</p><p>It's not like a fashion outlet at the accessibility store - they measure height, and leg and torso length, then offer a checklist of things you may or may not want in a chair. I opt for pockets, detachable handles and armrest, and one that folds for storage purposes. Sure, there's different brands, but only one is covered by my ADA voucher anyway, so after 20 minutes we come out with the one chair that was an option. Not before Santana charms her way into getting a pink marker from behind the counter and doodling on the backrest to make it feel more personal, though. And we fold it with out purses inside as we get back on the subway to the little grocery store where Santana swears she gets a discount because the Polish checkout guy likes her. I don't think we get a discount, but he definitely flirts. And, since we're stocking up for three times as many people, the chair does become a useful shopping cart.</p><p>It's 3 p.m. when we get back, the sun seeming to reach its peak and I worry I'll burn just before relaxing into the A/C as we enter the apartment building. Everyone seems to have livened up - and asks if we bought alcohol - by this time, too. "Didn't we drink enough last night," I scowl as Kurt relieves the wheelchair and Santana's arms of the groceries, "for at least a few days?"</p><p>Artie pops the top of the tequila bottle we didn't finish in answer. Adam is already draining a much nicer beer than we'd had last night, with a "No, no, don't look like that. It's called day drinking and it's a national pastime," and those closest to him decide to be British for the afternoon.</p><p>"As long as nobody pukes on me," Rachel shouts, shrill, as Adam offers her one of his Belgian beers. "Ooh, import!" She calls. Not everyone has taken up the offer, so the drunk party relocates to Kurt's room.</p><p>"But we are going out tonight, right?" Mercedes asks as I open a fresh bag of chips and flick through TV channels. I'm just accepting the local news affiliate is the best we're going to do when Santana affirms that yes, we are going out, while snatching the remote off me. I let go of the chips to retrieve and Tina steals them. My aghast face acting has never been more on point, as I get them right back, laughing and apologizing at her look of remorse.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did I dare add another potential romantic interest? Gosh, but I don't know which direction this will end up (I'm mostly writing for the resurgence crowd, so tell me if you have a preference!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quinn Fabray's first heartbreak was in seventh grade, when her crush had asked her to the swimming pool then left her for friends. She thought he just preferred them to her, but it still hurt - the next summer he said she didn't look good in her full-body swimsuit and he was embarrassed to be seen with her. Through everything else, it's still at the top of her list of the hardest things she's had to recover from.</p>
<p>As it rounds 8 p.m., and everyone in the apartment is starting to get ready, the New York trio rattle off our options for going what Adam describes as either "out" or "out out".</p>
<p>"Since I expect most of youse don't have your fake ID's, we're limited on our options. Callbacks is the over-18 bar full of all the theatre rejects where we hang out way too much, but if you want to actually go to a club, there's a couple gay bars I knows will let us in." Santana explains, deciding whether to wing her eyeliner or not,</p>
<p>"There's another club that some of our theatre friends go to," Rachel perks up to add, but Kurt shushes her,</p>
<p>"No, Rach, that place is really not cool. And you haven't been to any of our gay bars yet, please." He pouts at her.</p>
<p>Rachel hums through her lipstick application, using the reflection in the fridge, "Well, why don't we ask the room? I don't think everyone here will want to go to a gay bar, either." And she spins to face us, gathered as we hopelessly are trying to get ready in every corner of the loft, curtains all open to sustain conversation, but an equal number pulling on appropriate club attire or getting made-up in the communal spaces.</p>
<p>Santana's head perks up at Rachel's comment as Kurt tries to hide by staring hard at the kitchen counter; the Latina's face is not amused as she seems to be doing a head count of everyone. "Hey, you're out of luck, hobbit - we're 50/50 on gays to straights in this apartment, and we're meeting up with Dani to go out, so you're outnumbered. Gay club it is." She smirks, and I think I smirk along with her: I don't really mind where we go, and what Rachel said was uncool.</p>
<p>"Quinn!" Rachel shouts after eyeing over everyone in the room. I make like a meerkat, wide eyes leading my head as I jump up ramrod straight at her call. "Where do you want to go?" I wouldn't say I thrive on being center of attention, though I like it, but the nervous glances at the moment are not doing anything for me.</p>
<p>"I don't mind, Rach," I start, still twisting Brittany's hair up into a neat but slightly elaborate braid, all pinned to her head, "but if 2 out of the 3 people who live here think your club sucks, maybe we should hit up the preferred option?" I try to sound diplomatic. Rachel harrumphs and, I swear, makes a little stomp on the floor.</p>
<p>Santana passes me another hairpin as her eyes turn wicked again, "And, you know, Berry, that club you like isn't even accessible. It's such a hole in the wall you probably couldn't get a wheelchair in even if there was a ramp." Now Rachel hits the countertop in defeat. But that gives me pause. I drop the hairpin. Dancing all night I almost certainly won't be able to walk back. So do I take it easy, sit around instead of have fun? Or do I suck it up, go out in my chair, and hope people make room for me to pull off the few tricks I can? Honestly, I'd rather have fun than try to preserve a walking ability that might fade by the end of the night anyway. So I finish up Brittany's hair, stroke Rachel's shoulder and say we might visit her club later in the summer - though I have no plans to - and, after a final bathroom visit and making sure all I need will fit in one clutch, go back to Santana's room. With the curtains open, a few pairs of eyes follow me as I unfold the chair, tuck my clutch into one of the inside pockets, and sit myself comfortably while making sure my dress doesn't get trapped. Most of those eyes - Artie, Santana, Mike - are gleeful; Rachel's eyes look almost like she's disappointed in me.</p>
<p>It's not long before everyone is ready, Dani is called to meet us outside the club, and we basically stampede out through the sliding door. Again, most people take the stairs - the elevator is big enough for two chairs and only a few other people, max. Joining us in the elevator are Kurt and Adam, who confront me again before it even arrives to take us down.</p>
<p>"Quinn," Kurt starts, "you know Santana included you in the gay vote? And, I somewhat feel like a jackass for bringing this up - again - and you don't have to talk about it, but, I don't even really know how to address this -" the elevator opens on the top floor, "- I guess, I just want you to know, that if you want to talk about sexuality and, given your history, you feel uncomfortable broaching it with Brittany and Santana, then I am always willing to listen. Or, if you'd rather someone you don't know very well, I guess someone you weren't homophobic towards in high school, then, I swear -" at that, he drops to my eyeline in the cramped elevator, "- Blaine, or Adam or any of our friends will be there, too." I stare back at his tortured eyes. God knows I loved trying out fashion with Kurt and Mercedes, and we had a friendship going that we never really acknowledged, but I hadn't spoken to him basically at all since leaving Lima, so I didn't think he'd go out of his way to be so extra nice. I pat his cheek as the elevator arrives at ground level.</p>
<p>As we leave the elevator, our friends waiting in the building's entrance way, I make sure to maintain eye contact and thank him in words. He doesn't look convinced, so as we leave I suck it up and spill a little more; "but don't worry, Kurt. I mean, I could probably give it some real thought," I tell him, somewhat vaguely as our group makes its way to the intersection to hail taxis, "but at the moment I'm just going with whatever, and I'm not in pieces about it." I shrug on the off beat from pushing my wheels. We're separated in the taxis for logistical reasons before he can respond, but buys me my first drink at the club when we get there.</p>
<p>My second drink comes from Dani, who waves me back to where the group has claimed some seats after watching me spin on one wheel on the dancefloor. It only took one drink and seeing Brittany and Mike dominate to put me in the dancing mood, and I would have tried to physically drag Artie with me to not be alone if he wasn't feeling the same. Half of our friends had followed, initially an unneeded protective barrier before mingling and dancing on their own.</p>
<p>Dani reaches out as if to hand me the cocktail, but pulls it away at the last second. She had been leaning on the edge of one of the plush seats as there weren't enough for everyone, and now nods to my lap, asking to sit. Well. I said I was being free, and if a pretty woman wants to literally sit on me? I blush slightly, which is probably still visible in the low lighting, and nod with a small smile to grant her permission. She's gentle as she places herself sideways, still keeping some of her weight against the side of the seat, then hands me a cocktail and picks up another, clinking them in cheers. I know she's Santana's ex, though she's now foremost Elliott's bandmate and their friend, so I look to my friend as she and Brittany return from the bar to see if this is okay with her. Santana's expression? Surprised, impressed, and basically screaming 'get it': I take a good sip from the drink. We socialize a bit more, and my third drink comes from a round Santana buys for everyone currently at our little corner. We play a game that is little more than 'have a taste of everyone's drink', and I offer to get in another round when we're done. The high volume alcohol drinks makes me glad I'm not trying to stand, evidenced by how decidedly wobbly Rachel is - laughably so, causing her to pout and call it a night.</p>
<p>Rachel's departure causes us to branch out some more and, dare I say, become more promiscuous. Blaine and Elliott decide to try their luck flirting at the bar, Blaine quickly hitting on someone more camp than Kurt; Kurt and Adam begin grinding on the dancefloor, now that it's got less glee kids and more horny New Yorkers using it as foreplay rather than to show off their moves; and Brittany decides she's going to make out with everyone she sees until Santana accepts a dance with her. We - being Santana, Dani, and myself - unashamedly ogle a few of these before Santana caves and Dani invites me up to dance, too.</p>
<p>"You've got really good rhythm, and what you do is really impressive," she smiles at me from her seat, by now in an actual seat, when I try to say no. My next rebuttal is wiped out when she seductively sits back down in my lap and wraps her arms around my neck, "and Santana speaks highly of just about all your skills" she says next to my ear. So I'm weak. We're on the dancefloor next to San and Britt in no time. While there's not enough room to really do much, I still manage to club dance - glorified groping and bobbing to a beat - and sway with Dani, hold her hips and spin her. It's fun, and though I'm almost certain it's not going anywhere, I realize I probably do like girls more generally and more broadly than the context of Santana and Brittany and quiet touches, slow dances, and sex. I think I probably like just about everything about women. As I think it, an immediate flush takes over, coinciding with Dani's ass appearing near my face. She looks over her shoulder and, presumably, gets the wrong idea - I almost feel bad for being too in my head to have focused on her for a little while. She grasps my armrests and starts grinding down into my lap, effectively giving me a lapdance in the middle of the floor, before the song changes to something with an even quicker beat that she can't keep up with and we return to just dancing in close proximity and, a few songs later, dancing more with San and Britt rather than just together.</p>
<p>It's 1 a.m. when we decide to leave, our friends variously tired and all macked out - Blaine came away with more than one number, I swear - and, apparently out of habit, Santana drags us to an all-night vegan shawarma place that she explains Rachel likes after a night out. This is confirmed when the ethnic man behind the counter greets her and Kurt and explains their "little loud friend" already came by tonight and he was worried. The people looking out for you in a big city, huh. We share some lettuce wrap things, and Dani decides it's easier to just come back to the apartment and crash with us, thankfully sticking by Elliott more than me. Still, when we get to the door of the apartment, she gives me a lingering kiss on the lips before announcing she's going to crash in the 'gay bed' with Elliott, Blaine, Kurt, and Adam. Happy but a little embarrassed, I make Santana give me an extra push towards her room away from our friends' eyes. It's when the apartment is sleeping that I, comfy in cotton pajamas with my friends wrapped around me again, lick my lips. Santana and Brittany, after making out for a while behind me, mutter a goodnight and each kiss the back of my neck. Santana, again closest to me, wipes the dampness away and so very softly asks if I had a good night. I can only nod.</p>
<p>I'm not awake early in the morning, and it's basically afternoon when a goddamn party whistle pulls me from sleep. I shout a curse just as Santana does the same in Spanish. I assume Kurt is the culprit to my premature awakening when he mutters quietly enough he probably thought we couldn't hear that "well it looks like we got the lesbians up". I shout a 'fuck you', or something that I hope sounded like it with my mouth half pressed into the pillow, back at him. Santana laughed. Kurt huffed and pulled the curtain back, letting sunlight from the windows in the living space flood in.</p>
<p>"Oh, seriously, fuck you," I mutter as I turn my face into the pillow.</p>
<p>"We're incompatible," he responded as he flopped down on top of us over the covers, "but get out of bed soon, it's the first day of Pride month and Rachel wants to decorate the apartment. I can only make sure it's not horrifically offensive if I have back-up." He kisses each of our foreheads before leaving again.</p>
<p>"He's too perky for how much we drank," Santana starts,</p>
<p>"Unless he finally learnt how to make good coffee," I add,</p>
<p>"Or maybe he recharges because it's unicorn month." Brittany finishes, and we turned to her, unaware she was also awake.</p>
<p>We do get up, though, unable to go back to sleep with the noise and the light, and stumble out to witness the decorating abilities of a first grader with a new art set. Or, Rachel on June 1st.</p>
<p>"Damn, Berry, for someone who didn't want to go to a gay club you sure do make our apartment look like one," Santana snickers on her way to the kitchen.</p>
<p>I'm left in her wake, and add without thinking, "I really didn't think this place could get more gay, but," and I pull gently on a rainbow ribbon for good measure, "you've somehow done it."</p>
<p>"Maybe it just seems more gay because I'm here," a seductive voice calls from the kitchen - Dani's there, staring at me as she pours Santana some coffee that doesn't smell half as bad as Kurt's. I feel confident enough to maintain eye contact until Santana forces Dani to break it so she doesn't overfill her mug, so that's a good sign.</p>
<p>"Maybe," I parry as soon as Dani turns away, causing her to almost spill, "if I recall our nightclub debate last night, it is you who pushes the occupancy of this apartment to majority queer." I approach the kitchen on shaky legs - from nerves, actually, I think, though I try to bolster my confidence my considering how I must look, sauntering in sleep shorts. "So I have to thank you, because I had a great night." And to top it off, I lean on the bar opposite Dani and Santana, popping my cleavage out intentionally. They both swallow, Dani looking a little paler as Santana directs an impressed and proud look at me.</p>
<p>"No threesomes in the kitchen," Kurt calls all too casually over his shoulders as he goes about taking a staple gun off Rachel, "and no sex at all in the kitchen."</p>
<p>I accept my own cup of coffee, and join the growing group of us hanging around watching Kurt and Rachel fight over decorations, occasionally throwing a word in to support Kurt. It's mid-afternoon when, finally bored of the Broadway twins as reality entertainment, Santana shuts the whole thing down by asking why heterosexual little Rachel gets to decide we decorate for Pride anyway. It also gets rid of Rachel for a few hours, and we put on a film to watch without her constant questions. I snuggle between Santana and Dani while it's on, not knowing whose hand it is stroking my thigh about halfway through. Assuming it's Dani's, I tuck my head into her neck as some kind of silent approval, and fall asleep like that shortly thereafter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's probably not really a rating jump with how much has been discussed already, but let's call it a bit of a rating jump. It's also been a while since I wrote anything sexual, so enjoy this trip! (aka tell me if it sucks)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quinn Fabray's first <em>real</em> kiss was over winter break of her freshman year. Wanting to dump their child on someone else for a few hours, her parents had basically instructed her to go to a cheerleading sleepover that Brittany was hosting, though Quinn knew most of the team wouldn't be in attendance, especially since they were <em>freshmen</em>. It was only Quinn and Santana that showed up, and she felt awkward around the two girls, a warm attraction that she interpreted as discomfort or dislike brewing. But she knew imitating their behavior was how to best fit in, so when they started making out and insisted that all teenage girls do it at sleepovers for practice, she had few qualms joining in. Though still not sure about her baseball metaphors, she was fairly certain she rounded second with both of them that night.</p><p>I'm woken from my nap by my own snoring, but a whispered conversation is happening above my head. Santana seems to be trying to convince Dani to stay the night again. "And you can stay in my bed, it won't be weird, and we're all skinnier than the queens, anyway," she argued.</p><p>"If you want an orgy, Santana, all you have to do is ask," Dani drawled back sarcastically. It was clearly a joke, but worries underscored her tone - I squeezed her a little to get her attention.</p><p>"You should totally stay though." I muttered quietly, closing my eyes again to signal I was basically done with the conversation - I'm pretty sure there was no more debating to be done.</p><p>"Oh hey there, sleepyhead," Santana said softly as she slid down on the couch a little bit and hugged into me tightly from behind, "don't go back to sleep, Q, we're getting takeout." She said to the nape of my neck. Well, fine. I'd stay awake and watch <em>Drag Race</em> while waiting on food. Needing to rearrange so I could see the TV, I wrapped an arm around Santana's middle to pull her with me as I kicked my legs up and positioned myself to lay across the sofa, head in Dani's lap with Santana's on my chest, and our feet curled in Brittany's lap. And after months of having few close friends at Yale - and certainly none this close - simple intimacy was more than pleasant. Santana kissed my neck as she toed her slippers off, getting comfortable, too.</p><p>A slam came from somewhere I couldn't see before Kurt and Rachel appeared in front of the television, to groans from everyone. I must have missed Rachel's return, and her eyes kind of bugged out before she smiled at me. Kurt was more focused, holding up a variety of takeout menus. "Now that we have finally found all of our options-"</p><p>"I know it was you that hid the vegan menus, Santana," Rachel whined</p><p>"-okay, we just need to all agree on one restaurant. No mixing it up or piggybacking orders, neither us nor the restaurant staff are organized enough to get all the right food at the right time if we make more than one order," he took a breath, "So what kind of cuisine, let's vote," Kurt instigated a bracket voting system, but since Puck was insistent on having pizza no matter what, and Santana complained when told that she could get a hot dog from TGI's only if it was vegan so they didn't mix up Rachel's order again, we still ended up agreeing to place different orders. Kurt sighed in resignation, throwing a Crif's menu at Santana as he marched off to make the first call from the hallway outside.</p><p>"Britt, can you go get my glasses?" she asks as she unfolds the menu and squints at it, holding it wide at an angle in front of us; Britt gets up as Dani and I read off from the menu for ourselves, but it's a minute, tops, before she's back. I take hold of the menu as Santana puts her glasses on, wasting no time to compliment her.</p><p>"Aw, you look good in glasses, San," in time with an 'adorable' from Dani and 'cute' from Brittany. As much as she's able, Santana blushes, stealing the menu back from me though it really barely moves. I type our orders into my phone notes before the menu's passed around for others to add, and Santana makes the call - still laying on me, snapping at everyone to shut up. "We're going to have to move to eat." I tell her to no response. Whether it's me stroking her side or Brittany massaging her feet, she has good reason to not want to move. The television changes over to that baking show just as our food arrives - Rachel's already most of the way through her mini veggie burger, and Puck's antsy for his giant pizza - and I finally push both of us up. Still, after unfolding the paper bags on the coffee table, I'm only one bite into my BLT dog when Santana slips her right hand round to my lower back and just keeps it there.</p><p>I forget about the hand until long after our friends who have things to do on Monday have gone to bed. Chill-out TV and light conversation over takeout with friends was probably better than going out clubbing with them had been; but with fewer of us awake now, the mood definitely shifts. Santana's fully leaning into me, with Brittany laying across the other three of us on the couch, her head propped on a pillow and feet in Dani's lap. Rachel is curled up in a loveseat by herself, texting someone, and Adam and Kurt are sharing another one and watching the talk show on TV. Sam, Puck and Mike are on their backs on the floor in front of the TV set, playing flip-cup on their own stomachs. It's darker, quieter, and much calmer. But my heart rate leaps when the forgotten hand on my lower back starts to trail up my spine. A commercial break comes on, and Puck tries to make an argument for putting a DVD in, masking my gasp as my bra strap gets snapped. Both Santana and Dani chuckle, and I'd think I was being messed with if not for both their pairs of eyes being darker than before - erotic. And when I glance to see if anyone is paying us any attention, noting that nobody is and, in contrast, Kurt and Adam are lazily making out, I decide to give myself the same. I'm only human and a fair bit gay, two hot women looking at me with heat gives me needs, so sue me.</p><p>I don't want to hurt whatever Brittany and Santana might be, so turn to my right, taking Dani's cheek in my hand as Santana feels up my back a bit more, and pull Dani into a languid kiss. It's got no speed, no tongue, and little intensity, but she reciprocates in kind so I think it's just right. I get one soft kiss to the nape of my neck before I feel Santana and Britt get up, an odd act of privacy until I hear the distinct Brittany giggle that means they're fooling around in Santana's bed. With the extra space, I move into the middle of the couch and let Dani straddle me as we kiss with more force, the older woman pressing down into my lap as she leans her forearms on the back of the sofa behind my head. She's almost bobbing, keening in front of me as I lick over her lips, so much that it breaks our contact and brings her chest into my eyeline. Telling myself to go with the flow, I start to kiss at her cleavage, moving my own hands down from where they had respectfully rested on her waist to grab at her full ass. Really, so hot.</p><p>An exaggerated cough causes me to pull away, looking over Dani's shoulder at Rachel noisily plumping a cushion and ignoring everyone as she heads off to her bedroom. It's when I hear Kurt whimper, Adam grinning cheekily as he bites his shoulder, and notice that the boys on the floor have disappeared that I blush. Was Rachel holding out in the living space to make sure we all went to bed without having sex in here? I stall at my own thoughts. Would I want to have sex with Dani tonight? She's interesting, obviously attractive, and fun to flirt with. Yes, why would I not want to have sex with her. I pat one of her ass cheeks and start to stand up - evidently also disturbed by Rachel's disgruntled goodnight, Kurt and Adam stand at the same time as us. After we each give each other cheek kisses goodnight, I take hold of Dani's hand as we walk back to Santana's bed. Though it seems clear she doesn't find any of this awkward, I still worry.</p><p>That is, until we find both Britt and Santana awake, making out without urgency. Santana's on her back and sees us enter, patting the space in the bed next to them. I turn my back on Dani to change into pajamas while the other girl just strips to her panties, stood there with her tits on proud display when I turn back. My mouth hanging open, I climb into bed and she quickly follows. Being pressed between Dani and Santana is always nice, it seems. Brittany stops kissing Santana, finally aware of times it's best to not be sexually explicit, and we all settle. It's not awkward, but the silence is still broken moments later when Santana asks, "So are you going to feel her up, Quinn, because I'm insanely jealous right now." I swat at her before I turn a bit and do take two handfuls of Dani's breasts, casually massaging them as I fall asleep.</p><p>My hands are still on Dani's chest when I wake up on Monday morning. And while I know at least half the people in the apartment are at work, some kind of college orientation, or moving into their own places in the city, I didn't expect the place to be so empty. Brittany walks back into Santana's bedroom half-dressed and tells me as much; she finishes getting dressed and explains that she and Santana are going out, then winks.</p><p>Which is when my mind ends up right back in the gutter. And I'm not sure what I'm allowed to do, how to wake Dani, so I stop effectively groping her and shake her shoulder. "Morning beautiful," I get whispered huskily into my neck. She's just gently kissing at a sensitive spot on my neck when I tell her we're alone in the apartment. She immediately sits up on her knees and grins, hands moving to my middle to play with the bottom of my sleep shirt. I sit up, too, pulling my shirt off before leaning in to kiss her. We're in the same position as we were on the couch last night - except, obviously, topless, alone, and in a bed - and I quickly recreate the moment by licking at her cleavage and massaging her ass. There's much more skin for me now, though, and the smooth warmness feels so good.</p><p>A little encouragement from Dani and my head ducks over to kiss around her nipple, as I slide a hand under the waistband to feel up her ass some more. I guess I like boobs and ass equally.</p><p>This is the thought that sticks with me as I use one hand to grope her other breast (gently biting the nipple of the one I've been laving kisses on) and the other hand to squeeze an ass cheek. Both so round and full, with enough give however I fondle them. Women's bodies are truly wonderful, and I question if I'd enjoy literally kissing her ass as much as I do her breasts. That's not something we're going to find out today, though, as she's grinding down so enthusiastically into me that I know we're over the foreplay already. I pull back to appraise her, face bright red despite being Latina, and snake the hand on her ass round to her pussy, gently creeping down from her mons, using two fingers to push apart her labia. If I'd been trying to keep eye contact it would have been broken then as she threw her head back with a moan. Gathering damp slickness, I easily push my middle finger into her, simultaneously bringing my other hand down to put pressure on her nub and leaning up to kiss and suck at her neck. She doesn't moan anymore, even as I add another finger and start moving the fingertips on her clit in erratic patterns, but there are some pants coming from above me, speeding up as my hands do. After I shift the angle of my fingers entering her, it's barely another minute before she comes - silently, but I feel the clutch and release from her muscles around my fingers.</p><p>There's no time to get off myself before Santana and Brittany return. Dani cackles from above me, then mutters out a sorry and a thanks, standing and taking her panties off completely before walking to the bathroom stark naked. Deciding to at least wash my hands, I follow her. My friends give me a possibly (hopefully) sarcastic round of applause and cheers as I pass. Dani's still in the shower when I've got my top back on and joined Britt and Santana in the kitchen.</p><p>"We went shopping like two days ago, what did you need to go out for?" I ask as I make myself some OJ.</p><p>"I was just planning on dragging Britt out to give you some privacy," Santana begins, winking, "you're welcome, by the way. But then I figured I'd get you a little gift." Her optimism is matched by my surprise; Brittany claps her hands a little as Santana tosses the plastic bag to me. I dive in, first pulling out a little rainbow flag, chuckling a little. "Oh, thank God," Santana responds, genuinely, to my reaction, and I look up quizzically again, so she explains; "that one's more of a test to see if you'd go all gay panic on me. We would not be having the rest of this conversation if you did." I feel like I'm going to be looking confused all day until Santana just nods at the bag again, and I pull out some-</p><p>"What are these, Santana?" I hold the plastic wrappers each containing a single latex sheet up just as Dani leaves the bathroom, laughing behind me,</p><p>"I'll let you take this one," she calls out, ducking into someone's bedroom to presumably play around on her phone while ignoring whatever Santana's planned.</p><p>"Those are dental dams, Q, basically lesbian condoms," Santana answers - before I can get out a 'hell no', Britt pushes me onto a stool and Santana continues, "oh, yes. Now I've had to sit through sex talks with both my mom and my dad, and I'm going to guess you've had none at all, right?" I nod in affirmation, "So now you get me, and you're going to listen, because there's way more to safe sex than just not getting yourself knocked up again." It's half an hour before the conversation is over, with Dani having gone home about 5 minutes in when she, too, realized I was basically receiving a formal lesson. Brittany turned the TV on at the 10 minute mark, and so I was left alone with another new side to Santana for the most of it. Giving an awkward sex ed lesson to your adult friend is another level of caring, and when I hugged her afterwards, she squeezed me tight.</p><p>"Am I still allowed to have a gay panic later?" I joke as we pull away. With nobody else around, the two of us feel free to stay in the kitchen together, too, with study materials - Santana a book on music theory and I a play text and a highlighter - as we try to be responsible and prepare. I know it annoys Santana when people (Rachel) tease her about her studies, since she's always been a great student who actually cares, but this was never a box people saw her in. It's silent as we swap between social media and our work, until Brittany comes in to distract us, saying she's lonely with only the Real Housewives of wherever to entertain her, and she won't leave until we both go with her. Neither of us can deny her, and we end up having a dance party in the open space before napping together after I announce I probably need to lie down. I lay on the bed first, with both my friends deciding to tuck themselves around me, and I wonder about why I tense when I get one hand from each of them under my shirt on my abs and under my shorts clinging to my thigh.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>er, content warning I guess? There's some brief discussion of mental health issues, because we can't forget Quinn also has some of those. And alcohol abuse. Then cheesy fun.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Contrary to popular belief, Quinn Fabray's biggest heartbreak was not Finn Hudson dumping her. Repeatedly. For the same girl. It was having, and then quickly not having, her daughter; only on occasion can she reconcile the image of herself with the concept of "mother", and each time she does she weeps until she's dehydrated. Whether it's because she's young and doesn't see in herself the experience and maturity needed to be a mother, or because she doesn't have a child to mother, she only began unpacking years after the fact. It's definitely both, with a sprinkling of not really knowing what being a mother means in the first place. She gets an increasing number of cards every mother's day - from Shelby, Noah, her mother, and sometimes Mercedes, Santana and Brittany, and Rachel - and in her freshman year of college she received one written, for the first time, by her daughter's own hand. She drank so hard that night she didn't wake up until two days later, when campus security broke in to check on her.</p><p>By the end of the week, just about everyone has left to their own places - only Mike and I remain at the apartment with Kurt and Adam, Rachel, and Santana and Brittany. Mike, announcing that the air mattress he and the boys had been sleeping on was desperately uncomfortable, relocated to the sofa as soon as Puck was finally convinced to stay at Mercedes, Blaine, and Sam's place, taking the coffee table as his closet. Not that social space mattered much more, I'll be starting the theatre workshop on Monday and I am not convinced it won't be practically all-day every day. Until then, though, I can throw my body on top of Mike's early in the morning and dig out the control for the TV from his pillow, waking him up to watch dumb talk shows as Santana makes her special fried eggs for everyone.</p><p>"And a vegan bagel for Rachel." Santana announces as she hands out the last of the plates and sits between me and Brittany on the couch - having displaced Mike to Brittany's other side. I pass her plate back to her, and dig in.</p><p>"This is honestly amazing." I moan and kiss her cheek in silent thanks.</p><p>"Wanky," she smirks, but returns the affection then takes her own mouthful.</p><p>While we're lightly mocking the political pundit on the TV, Rachel quickly finishes her breakfast bagel and makes her voice heard, depositing her plate by a t-shirt on the table. Mike leans over to take the empty plate, putting it under his own.</p><p>"I hope you don't take this as offense, Quinn," Rachel begins primly, pulling her dress down to her knees - every other eyebrow in the room raises an inch and Santana lifts a finger,</p><p>"If this is any gay shit, Berry, you are so wildly outnumbered right now, not that it would take more than one of us, or Hummel and a half, to kick your ass anyways." She snarks, not viciously anymore but certainly delivering a warning.</p><p>"No, Santana, I would never-" and further up the eyebrows creep, "I was merely going to say that, no offense, but Quinn seems a lot more, um, sane than in high school. No mood swings or personality changes. The Quinn who's been living with us has been the most pleasant version of her I've ever met." She rushes out, then reaches out for her plate to escape to the kitchen before she realizes it's not on the table.</p><p>"Well," I choose to put her out of her nervously foot-tapping misery, and all eyes flick between us, "that sounded a little offensive. But therapy and pills can do wonders, and since I do feel a lot more centered I won't bite your head off for that comment." I pause and smirk, "I can't speak for my guard dog, though." And nod to Santana, who grins widely and gently swats my arm.</p><p>Santana's smile stays, but returns to not-Joker levels, when she takes hold of my hand and prods, "I didn't know you got therapy, Q. Also kinda thought you'd resist that shit. You were all over the place senior year." She squeezes the hand she's sequestered and nudges my cheek.</p><p>I squeeze back, "Didn't remember you being so affectionate in public either," I wink at her, voice even probably only because I'm keeping focused on one person, "no, I was forced into it with rehab. Turns out when you suffer a life-changing injury at 18 just when you've got your future planned out, people worry about you. But it turned out good, you know, in the last semester we've got round to digging up, well, everything else. Absent parents, teen pregnancy, um, post-partum depression, everything. Still a bit scared in cars, but that's the next hurdle. Like I said," I look down to my lap from Santana's eyes, noticing she's now clinging to both my hands with hers, and I fidget with her fingertips, "talking it out has helped. And the pills, whenever I need them. So I'm more mellow and level-headed, obviously, I'm talking about this instead of screaming and crying." I swallow and look back up to Santana, then around at the intense stares from everyone else. "Shelby even said I could see Beth again sometime soon." With one last squeeze, I detach from Santana's grip and pick at the food on the plate in my lap. I cough without need, "So yeah, that's me healing inside, too. I appreciate the, um, care." I look back down shyly as Santana gives me a side hug and Brittany and Mike jump up to hug from me the the other side and behind.</p><p>Rachel adds her own attention-grabbing cough, "I'm glad you're doing so well, Quinn. Thank you for sharing." We all chuckle lightly at that last part.</p><p>"What is this, circle time? I'd rather circle-jerk." Santana retorts, completely breaking the slightly heavy tension that had begun to settle.</p><p>"So she's really always like that?" Adam directs at me and Brittany, pointing limply at Santana.</p><p>"Honestly, she's improved. If she hasn't threatened you in Spanish with ninja stars, you're lucky." I chuckle as I hug her back.</p><p>"Razor blades, honestly, do you even know me." She snarks as our cheeks squish together.</p><p>"Aren't they adorable, Kurt?" I look over as Adam asks this, and he's perched on the edge of their loveseat, chin on palm as he moons at us.</p><p>I meet Kurt's terrified face with the sweetest grin I can manage, "Someone call coach Sue and tell her that the unholy trinity just got called 'adorable'." He drawled as he rolled his eyes and stood, gathering plates to take to the kitchen.</p><p>"I'm sure her flying monkeys already overheard, don't worry, princess!" Santana shouted at his retreating back, muffled for being almost buried under me and Brittany.</p><p>Adam, doe-eyed, just shook his head (still on his hand) with his mouth open, "Like a chihuahua." He remarked as if disbelieving.</p><p>I laugh happily, loudly, unashamed of it among friends. "Someone call coach Sue from freshman year and tell her that the unholy trinity are all gay." I get out between peals, pulling everyone into rippling laughter, too.</p><p>Come evening, Rachel wants to order takeout again, but everyone else at the loft is set on trying to eat healthy; we've all got abs and, honestly, I want to keep them as long as I can this time. Seems everyone has the same idea, and Kurt proudly takes his shirt off to show off his workout physique when Rachel brings it into question, leading to Mike doing the same. The boys then make a salad dinner for us, and we stick on re-runs of The Bachelor.</p><p>"This is nice," Kurt says, pulling a sweater on, "like a girls and gays night!" He claps a little, perched on Adam's lap. An irritated wave from Rachel's fork hand has Adam placate her.</p><p>"And Michael." Adam melodramatically rolls his eyes.</p><p>"Oh, I didn't mind," Mike coughs out, "I can dig The Bachelor." And he shrinks back to being quiet in his seat. He becomes more lively again when the bachelorettes are being introduced, hollering along with me, Santana, and Brittany. Kurt and Adam chime in on their dresses and interviews, but it's Rachel's eye rolls at the audience participation that are more disturbing than all our noise put together. We're on charming lady number 14 when Santana's had enough.</p><p>"Hey hobbit, why are you cramping our fun over there?" She slouches back into the couch with a handful of popcorn being shoved into her mouth.</p><p>"I don't." She stops and reconsiders, "Why are you making so much noise, they're just women? They all have breasts and legs and hair, do you need to discuss it?"</p><p>I blink slowly at her. So does... everyone else. "Yes?" I try, unsure and weakly. Kurt chuckles and Santana bursts out laughing.</p><p>When she calms, Santana leans forward to grab another drink - Rachel, sitting diagonally opposite her, flinches - then sits back between me and Britt like a pimp, one arm behind each of us, Mike shaking his head next to me. "Lemme educate you. To us," Santana gestures with the bottle to the four of us on the couch, "women aren't just women. They're individual goddesses," I blush and look down to my own drink. I'm getting comfortable with my not-heterosexuality, and it feels genuinely nice to be included in the gay count without any comment, "So yeah, Cheyenne has boobs just like Ariel, but I know what I like in boobs, and Ariel's are better. Britt disagrees. You don't have opinions on boobs so you don't get a say. And, you know, all the rest of women's parts." Okay, I swear I try to stop the laugh but it bubbles raucously from me at that. Santana turns to look into my eyes and quietly mutters "wanky" before looking back at Rachel, more laughter joining mine now, "You get the idea. But yeah, if they were naked I imagine we'd be cheering on the ones whose V's we find hot then debating when someone likes piercings or whatever. That shit's weird." She pauses and raises a wicked eyebrow in my direction, "You into that, Q?" she teases. I get her back by removing her arm from around my shoulder, but she just brings it to my upper thigh so it was no sufficient punishment.</p><p>"Well," Rachel says, coughing lightly as she stands up, "that is more information than I ever wanted to know. Thank you, Santana." I find it strange that Kurt, at least, if not both him and Adam, didn't intervene when vaginas came up, but turn to the loveseat to see a quiet discussion taking place, likely blocking out the rest of the room. Rachel's back before the next girl can appear from her limo, "This one's pretty, right?" She tries, getting no response as Mike and Santana had already started debating how good her abs were based on the visible parts from the slits at the waist of her dress.</p><p>"Her face, yeah, but you can see she has curves and no ass. That figure's not my type, and I'm pretty sure it's unhealthy." I provide conversation for Rachel, leaning forward and nodding to her, lifting my own bottle to prompt her to say something. But the hand on my thigh seems to have registered my comment, adding pressure. I look to Santana.</p><p>"Please tell me you're an ass girl, Q. Do you know how hot girls who can appreciate a fine ass are?" She addresses me deadly seriously, so I smile back in earnest, too.</p><p>"Not as hot as girls with a fine ass." I lean back, "But no, I think I appreciate boobs just as much. Like Jessica, number 7? Her boobs <em>and</em> her ass were just, in combination, amazing." I place my own hand over Santana's on my thigh, getting really into just being able to talk with friends about girls.</p><p>Santana is about to respond when Rachel, from her spot between the TV and the loveseat occupied by Kurt and Adam (who are now watching the reality show of the apartment), pipes up. "Yes, I don't think I will get used to this culture," she announces as she points between all of us vaguely, "and I'm feeling a little uncomfortable. I don't really want you judging my body that way." She mutters shyly. Semi-homophobic as that is (does she rake over every man she knows? Does she expect to be allowed to talk about men she's into around other men? Does she feel the need to tell all straight men she interacts with not to?), I have to appreciate how we likely gave her a complex over her attractiveness in high school, and it can't help finding out that the girls who mocked your appearance are queer and genuinely interested in women's bodies.</p><p>When Santana's closing mouth starts to open again, I pat her hand to calm the dragon, "We don't, Rach. I imagine your body's just fine, but I'll leave it to your boyfriends to check and tell you that." Suitably attended to, Rachel beams and picks at the salad she has leftover.</p><p>Santana squeezes my hand with a little smile, then stands and turns off the TV. "Hey, hey, I have a better idea for entertainment," I raise my eyes, hand still gripped in hers hanging in the air, "Quinn, Mike, shirts off." I nearly spit out a sip I took in her dramatic pause at her absent command, spluttering an <em>excuse me</em> while Mike just obliges, so I follow. "Cool. Okay, Britt, who's abs do you wanna look at?" Santana smirks, sitting while meeting the eyes of everyone in the room, Mike and I topless like show ponies on the other side of the TV to Rachel, giving everyone an eyeful of my very plain bra. Santana sits back down, taking my spot.</p><p>Brittany takes the question very seriously, and I go red under her inspection, until a moment later she shrugs and says, "I like both. I haven't seen Quinn's as much, so I might pick her." Santana nodded.</p><p>"Hummel!" Santana snapped, and he jumped to attention, "Same question." And she winked at him.</p><p>"Well, Mike?" He squeaked out, looking back to Adam, "Sorry, Quinn, I'm trying to isolate your abs, but your torso isn't broad like Mike's, and I see your bra and, um, hips." I shrug as he hides his eyes and sits down next to Brittany.</p><p>"Awesome," Santana grins at Rachel, "And I pick Quinn. Love ya, Mike, but I can't help but be drawn to the silvery smoothness my lady Q's got going on. Super lickable." My cheeks turn profusely red and heart rate starts accelerating - I jitter at the thought of Santana's tongue on my stomach. "Come on Rachel, which?"</p><p>Rachel barely glances before averting her eyes melodramatically, "How do I even judge? If they're lickable, Santana?" I do manage to stifle the laugh at that, though I feel my abs ripple in mirth, and the soft whoop from Santana means she's noticed that, too.</p><p>Air-pump done, Santana turns back to Rachel, "Just whichever you like best overall for all the reasons, it's not hard. Lickability is hella important. Ooh, we should do body shots!" I try my best to ignore that idea, even after Brittany concurs.</p><p>"Can I pass?" Rachel asks, throwing her arms up in defeat, but then she continues more shyly, "Actually I have a different question." I pull my shirt down as she seems to move the game on, sitting back down between Santana and Brittany. Rachel hums a little before continuing, "What are you guys interested in romantically, with the same sex? Is that weird to ask?" She bites her lip.</p><p>"Yep!" Santana announces, folding her legs beneath her, "like, what makes you go goo-goo for guys? Whatever, I guess I'm mostly into feminine but athletic women, in figure and personality, you know. Sweet but can be hella tough." She shrugs, putting her hands back to my leg - her eyes follow and look to me, and soon everyone is looking at me, too.</p><p>"Me?" I squeak, completely unattractively, but Santana still smiles and Britt grabs a lock of my hair to play with, "I think I'd have to go on actual dates with women to know." When the gazes don't relent, I sigh and lean back more, "I don't know. Kind of the same, I guess. And witty, I like good humor."</p><p>Santana had looked taken aback when I said I didn't know, then smirks, "You should totally go out with me!" She announces, leaning back towards the arm of the couch away from me as I had done before, "I'm awesome and hilarious, we can work out your type!" And her enthusiasm just to help out seems so genuine, while my mind has gone right to what it would be like to wine and dine her.</p><p>I'm not the only positive reaction, Kurt aww-ing and Brittany shimmying into me from the other side. So Rachel's eyebrows basically disappear into her hairline, but Mike starts dancing. I grin, pulling Santana's body closer again, "So where are you taking me?" A favor, right?</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I was going to draw this out a bit, have Quinn spent some more fun time with Dani, but then the cute date idea just took over and went places I wasn't expecting. So Unholy Trinity starts here, enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <p>Quinn Fabray's first date was to the freshman dance at the end of that year. McKinley had so many dances you would think everyone would be bored by senior prom, but alum told of each getting a more and more grand budget, less and less adult supervision, and more and more alcoholic drink smuggling in the parking lot, so climbing the ladder of dances was an event itself. The cheerleading captain position saw high turnover whenever Sue got pissed with some girl, so Quinn was promoted to the spot two months before the end of her freshman year, when she was the only person to show up to morning practice on time. Finn, then the second-string quarterback looking to get his big break come fall when the current first-string but actually worse quarterback would have graduated, had been ogling her in class and on the field for weeks and, when she began barking orders rather than following, he approached to ask if she was injured or something. Well, had been pushed and pushed in her direction by Puck until she'd noticed and he had to keep walking. She did all the right things - giggle, smile - and he promised he'd be an awesome date to the dance before even asking her, so she took it upon herself to actually ask. It was pleasant.</p>
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    <em>Santana</em>
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  <p>"Hey, Britt," I mumble while climbing into bed, Quinn hogging the bathroom and Brittany already starfishing. I push her limbs into her own body to recline like it's a sun lounger, stealing one of Britt's pillows, "where do I take Q? Girl needs something classy, but too classy might be wrong."</p>
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  <p>Britt rolls on top of me, "Just go to your favorite restaurant." She grins, kissing my neck, "Cause if you're gonna see if she likes your type, what your favorite place is like is part of that." I sigh, patting the back of her head to let up with the kissing.</p>
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  <p>"I'm just now thinking it's weird I asked Quinn out -" I start as she pushes herself up,</p>
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  <p>"It wasn't weird. At least, I think only Rachel really looked weird but she's still a little weird herself. And Quinn said yes really quickly anyway." Britt comforts with her words as she comforts by snuggling into my side.</p>
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  <p>Quinn gets in from the bathroom, and takes Britt's other side, with our bubbly blonde rolling over to give her some affection, too. In their hug, Quinn lets one arm drape over Brittany's middle, and I'm compelled to reach mine out to link hands with her, smiling as we fall asleep.</p>
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    <em>Quinn</em>
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  <p>It has been a rough but pleasant few days. I report this all as I'm lazily wheeling around the loft with toast between my teeth and then discarded in my lap. "No, I'm fine, just too sleepy to bother thinking about trying to use my legs," I insisted when Brittany finally woke up and saw me struggling to reach a plate and asked how bad it hurt. Santana had just as frantic a reaction to if I was hurting when she found me sitting instead on Brittany's lap on the sofa watching cartoons with the chair right next to me. Then she asked how my summer theatre workshop was going, and I decided I needed to pace but still didn't want to walk. The truth was really that nothing hurt and I could feel my legs... I just couldn't quite feel the muscles in them, and wasn't going to risk it.</p>
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  <p>"It's a pretty modern experience. You'd probably call it pretentious, San. We're doing Romeo and Juliet which sounded middle school but, you know what, it's very much all actor experience so they want us to create character. There was no casting for parts, as such. We spent the first day with a seminar on character types and performance development, and then we pitched what we could bring to each role. We all get two - a main and a minor character, double casting tradition and how exclusive they've made the program kind of meant they had to, but they said something about switching between diverse roles quickly-"</p>
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  <p>"You're right, I would call it pretentious." Santana interjects, "I know you've still got a bit of your WASP-y thing going on, but are these the kind of schmucks you want to spend your life working with?" She asks, and I glare for a fraction of a second.</p>
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  <p>"With Yale drama training I could go act anywhere, but I might want to get into teaching performance, actually. It really helped me, and bringing the arts to kids almost seems like our legacy after glee club," I cough back before continuing, "but basically, I got Romeo."</p>
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  <p>Brittany and Santana look so happy and surprised that Brittany literally tosses her popcorn up - popcorn for breakfast is an interesting choice, but not my problem. They both pounce on me, with Brittany lifting me up when they realize group hugging is a bit too hard, and they jump around while I giggle like a maniac on the couch. Rachel appears with a dramatic and spittle-filled shush then, but seems pleasant when I tell her the news, too. She recovers my toast from the floor and looks put-out again, but says nothing. It's Kurt that makes actual breakfast, popcorn and toast long forgotten, as a reward for the role since I am possibly the only person who seems skilled in the kitchen.</p>
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  <p>It's when I announce I'm going to shower, relocate from sofa to wheelchair, and then hesitate halfway to the bathroom that I even realize there's something we all forgot. With half of my friends' eyes on me, I turn wheel to Santana's room with a mumble about clothes. Two minutes later, Santana appears as I am on my knees, kind of sorting through clothes and kind of panicking.</p>
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  <p>"So I just texted Artie," she says as she wraps herself around me from behind, "because none of us noticed that he stole a stool from Kurt's bedroom and had Sam in the bathroom while he showered the whole time he was here." She strokes my back, "And I know our date is tonight and all, but if you don't mind me getting you naked already, I can go pick out the comfiest stool I see." I turn in her arms and kiss her cheek. A very affectionate thank you, so she winks and leaves and I hear a respectfully quiet fight about the stool situation with Kurt.</p>
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  <p>I don't notice Santana check me out once in the bathroom. She looks at me, obviously, but only as a person and not as a body. It's so damn respectful, but I kind of wish she had leered at least once. At least her hands linger as she pats me down dry before she leaves to let me dress. "Wait, Q," she pops her head back in as I struggle to clip my bra on. She pauses, then steals the underwear entirely, rolling her eyes. "Er, are you going to be in a wheelchair tonight? I just made reservations and would have to call again. Talked them into giving us a real nice table but I know the place and it'd be too cramped to be comfy in a wheelchair." She looks down and blushes as I finish pulling my baggy sweater on.</p>
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  <p>I roll over and hold her face in one palm, "No, I think I'll be fine. I have you to carry me anyway." She smiles and turns her face to kiss my palm then leaves the doorway at pace, rejoining the others in various states of pajama-clad and daywear now.</p>
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  <p>And I am walking, stick-and-Santana-assisted, when we get out of the taxi at our date spot. Brittany said we had to get ready properly in different rooms, but then stopped her own idea dead in its tracks so she could help us both get ready at the same time. They both took one look at the nicest clothes I'd brought to New York and looked disappointed, instead dressing me in a jumpsuit of Brittany's, with Santana wearing one of her tight dresses that may as well be loungewear to her from what I've seen and heard. We're dressed up, not too much, and I can see why: it's a nice restaurant, probably with a dress code of some sort, but not an expensive place that only admits black tie. It's nicer than I actually expected, and Santana smiles as I take it in, first warmly and then wickedly as she leans in to whisper right in my ear, "I treat girls well, Q." She winks and walks us in. "So, some background on this restaurant," she offers as we're seated - on the second floor, with a view out the back which, unlike many alleys, is a well-maintained beer garden. Possibly one of the best views inner city Brooklyn has to offer. "I stumbled upon when I was just out looking for some decent food - I can manage vegan diet to a point, and I passed that pretty quickly - so I comes upon here and I look at the building and the menu - and I mean, fuck it's got prices on for a place this swanky in New York? But, you know, I'm not coming here for dinner every night, I'm not that loaded or weird. I remember it, and change up some of my routes to pass it, knowing that when I've got something to really go out for that I'll want to come to this place so I kept checking it out. I was going to bring Dani here, but she likes hanging out at bars with friends the few nights she has free, so our dates were always lunch, you know? I've got an address book of cute bistros now." She fiddles with the corner of her menu, "So congrats, Q, you're the reason I get to actually eat here. I did once convince them to let me use the bathroom so I could check out the seating and stuff, that's how I knew to get the table back here."</p>
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  <p>I'm floored. I've known Santana years, and known her affection and her intimacy, but I never quite thought she'd be so damn <em>dateable</em>. Whether she was teasing or not, she clearly does treat girls well. And, clichéd as it is, she really just made me feel like the only girl in the world. "Thank you" I mutter breathlessly at her, catching her eyes as she looks up. I'm expecting a waiter to interrupt, but nothing breaks our eye contact so I do instead. I cough awkwardly, "So, how does working out if I like your type go?" I pretend like I'm not 90% sure I've reached that conclusion already, blaming it on chivalry or something, "Because I guess I've been intimate with you as a friend so I don't know where to look for the difference." I say when she looks confused.</p>
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  <p>Then she awkwardly coughs. "Yeah, you know my personality better than nearly everyone. Do you like being around that in a romantic setting? We're gonna have to do something romantic, maybe order the spaghetti so we can Lady and the Tramp?" She almost looks a little hurt.</p>
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  <p>I reach across the table, pushing her menu down and stroking the back of one of her hands with my index finger, "You're my tramp, right?" I chuckle,</p>
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  <p>She laughs, smiling, thankfully. I feel so warm that I made her smile, "Only because I wanna treat you like a lady, remember who's paying here." She winks. I swallow, weak, and I think she notices my blush. "How do you feel, Q? You're gonna have to tell me 'cause I could take that reaction a hundred different ways. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." She says confidently, then adds "I'm - I just - I'm actually having a really nice time" more quietly.</p>
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  <p>"I don't know." I say, looking at her looking away. "But I'm having a nice time, too." She looks back at me, eyes dark, "So what would you do on a date now?" And she just damn smiles, taking gentle hold of my hand that's touching hers and then reaching across to hold the other one, leaning forward in her seat. Her hands are warm and soft, and I can't help but stoke with all my pads before squeezing and feeling lucky I get to hold them. Her cleavage pops out just enough that I only feel a little wrong for looking. Her eyes bore into my soul, brown almost disappearing into black and leaving only the gold twinkling under the dim lighting at the edges.</p>
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  <p>"How do you feel, Q?" She asks again, huskily now, with a stroke of each thumb on my hands, a foot snaking over to barely touch my own.</p>
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  <p>I'm lost. "Like it's taking all my strength to not kiss you right now." I answer before realizing and she gasps, leaning over the table like her life depends on it but not kissing me with force. When our lips meet, they're closed, and there's push but not much. I lick her lips and she licks mine but that's as far as it goes. It's after a moment that our eyes meet, too: both scream there was a desperate need to express all our affection and lust through a more intimate touch. And that we both want more. Dinner hasn't even started, and this girl must have game because I'm smitten.</p>
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  <p>I kiss her again as we leave. It was a wonderful date, and she looks so confident as she hails a taxi I feel like I can't help it. She grabs my waist and beams, but pulls her head away quickly to scan for taxis. "At least let me get you home first," she jokes while I hold her back and kiss her neck softly.</p>
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  <p>Heeding her suggestion, we've both cooled down by the time we reach the apartment after not touching in the cab ride home. But when I see her shed her dress like a second skin, and when she sees me take my hair down, at the edges of her room as we're getting ready for bed, everyone else long asleep, we're suddenly making out. In our underwear. She pushes me away to strip her underwear off, and I'm pretty sure I bug out before she selects some pajamas to wear, throwing a t-shirt at me, still bra-less already since this morning. I slide into the bed next to Brittany while Santana takes her contacts out, and then I have her pressing her whole body into me.</p>
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  <p>"I haven't been on a date so good since Britt," She mumbles against the pulse point of my throat before sucking on it, "And I don't think you've ever had so much fun on one, either, Q," she pushes a hand under my shirt, "And I can't think of any reason to not do it again." She brings her head up and groans before her lips meet mine, passionately.</p>
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  <p>I can think of one, and it's waking up right next to us. But I'm kissing her back as my hands grab the top of her ass and massage there.</p>
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  <p>"Fuck that's hot." Brittany says. We don't stop. I don't feel like I can. I feel like I've been falling in love with Santana since we became friends and finally found some payoff. A few moments later, I realize Brittany is still watching us, and push Santana back a little until we both turn to the other blonde. "Don't stop because of me," she looks apologetic, and maybe it's the haze of lust but... I don't know why, but I take one hand from Santana to reach over and pull Brittany into our sides. Santana seems to quickly get the idea and leans to suck at Brittany's neck while I lean in to kiss her. A glance to her eyes - blown, truly, no trace of icy blue left - just before I do turns me on more. Or maybe that's Santana thumbing over a nipple. My moan is guttaral.</p>
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  <p>And I remember in a flash fooling around with them in high school every chance we got when I wasn't too repressed. And I know high school romances rarely make it... but what if? I wonder, as Brittany's hand finds its way to my other breast, pinching around the edge of the areola. Santana eating me out while stroking my stomach and being fingered herself by Brittany who I rubbed off is not how I expected our night to end. But, honestly, I wouldn't mind every night ending that way.</p>
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  <p>My thoughts are the same in the morning when I'm woken up by sloppy pecks to each cheek, remember we're all naked, and scratch at Brittany's abs as I kiss Santana. "So, I really liked that." I say while we're getting dressed.</p>
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  <p>It only gets awkward when we leave Santana's room for breakfast to be glared into stillness by Rachel, with Kurt and Mike actively looking at each other. "If you're going to have a threesome in the middle of the night, please learn to be quiet." The little diva snaps before getting on with her morning. Mike gives me a high five as I sit down for breakfast.</p>
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